His Silver Eyes
by Neanara Heazelrean
Summary: All the times when Hermione Jean Granger noticed Draco Lucius Malfoy's eyes, from the first book to the last.
1. Chapter 1

His Silver Eyes

Summary: All the times when Hermione Jean Granger noticed Draco Lucius Malfoy's eyes, from the first book to the last.

* * *

 **i.**

You remember his eyes.

At eleven, you saw his grey eyes and you became enchanted.

His eyes were light gray that time, full of arrogance, but

it also shone with innocence.

Light gray.. very light.. so alluring.

Then you snorted.

"Pah," you said. "He's probably an arse."

And you smiled smugly because as always.. **_you were right._**


	2. Chapter 2

**ii.**

You remember his eyes.

 **AGAIN.**

No, it's not gray; no, sir, it was probably silver-grey.

Then you remember your second year at Hogwarts.

Remember that time at the Quidditch Pitch?

When he called you a **filthy little Mudblood** in front of the Slytherin Quidditch team.

Every Gryffindor there stood angrily, ready to defend your honor.

Wands out, fists clenched, hexes and curses and jinxes ready and deliciously nagging to roll off of someone's tongue in just a tiny, uncalculated movement.

You smirked.

Slytherins sneered and jeered at you- at them- very not Slytherin-esque, you thought.

He glared at you, daring you to challenge him.

Goddamned prude.

Stupid little snake.

Bloody coward.

You just scoffed and smirked at him.

Again.

"Let it go," you said calmly.

"He's not worth it."

Bloody Gryffindors.

Too much bravery makes them recklessly stupid.

But no, No, Ron HAD to show off! And where did it get him?

At Hagrid's hut, vomiting off slugs!

He stared at you as you and Harry hoisted him away, an ugly smirk marring his features.

 ** _Silver grey eyes meets brown eyes._**

He suddenly looked away.

 _That's right,_ you mouthed. _Look away, you bloody coward._

You smirked for the last time at him because you know, he got your message by the way his pale face reddened; and you know

 ** _Malfoys never go down without a fight._**


	3. Chapter 3

**iii.**

For the third time, you remember his silver orbs.

Now you're certain that they're silver.

You marvel at them.

And you're thrilled, because

 _This year, he would always stare at you._

Sadly, you can't savor that.

(Not yet. But soon, you vowed. **Soon.** )

The Time-Turner was making you go crazy.

Ron and Harry too, with their stupid brooms and skinny rats.

And that crazy, glittery, fake _**"Seer"**_ Trelawney who likes to spout of daily misfortunes in sherry-induced fits of hysteria!

 **HONESTLY?!**

WHEN YOU THOUGHT THAT YOU COULD HAVE A BREAK FROM ALL THE CRAZY BULLSHITS FROM LAST YEAR AND JUST USE THE TIME-TURNER THIS YEAR FOR YOUR STUDIES AND A LITTLE BIT OF FUN, TO KEEP YOUR BUSHY HEAD LOW AND AVOID GETTING IN DANGER FOR THE NTH TIME WHILE STILL HELPING HARRY BLOODY POTTER AND RON BLOODY WEASLEY IN THEIR SO-CALLED ADVENTURES, ESPECIALLY WITH WHAT HAPPENED LAST YEAR WHEN YOU ACCIDENTALLY TURNED INTO A CAT AND WAS PETRIFIED BY A BASILISK THAT GINNY BLOODY WEASLEY OPENED BY ORDERS FROM A BLOODY DIARY-

You're stressed. You're angry.

Where's the chance to vent out all of the bloody stress out when you need it?!

But you were patient.

You waited.

Hallelujah.

Hallelujah, hallelujah, finally!

Thank the gods!

The pale prat called Hagrid a blubbering oaf in front of you three!

Says the one that milks an injury for all its bloody worth?

And what's that prat's name?!

 **Draco bloody Luci** **us bloody Black bloody Malfoy, of course!**

Yes!

You finally got an excuse to slap that sorry thing he calls a face!

"DON'T CALL HAGRID THAT, YOU FOUL, PATHETIC LITTLE COCKROACH-"

 **CRACK!**

 **Oops.**

Your hands slipped, sorry.

Why, you ask?

Well, instead of slapping him, your hand changed course (not that you could blame it, it's just an.. ah.. just a spur of the moment..)...

...and punched him HARD in the pale, pointed thing that he calls a face.

You felt the satisfying crunch of broken bones beneath his skin as your hand hit him.

He staggered back, clutching a pale hand to his broken and bleeding nose and wincing from the pain from his slightly fissured jaw, his eyes a wild, wild gray.

Hah.

You breathed heavily as you glared at him and his cronies with grim satisfaction as they ran away to the ends of the earth (read; to their Daddy's cloaks and Mummy's roes) like the bloody devil himself was the one they saw face to face.

"Well, that felt good."

You said, a dark and triumphant smile in your face as Harry and a shaken Ron approached you.

xxxx


	4. Chapter 4

**Note: The Bulgarian conversation is translated by Google. I am very sorry if the translation is wrong and the update is damned short.**

* * *

 **iv.**

Fourth Year was when Viktor Krum approached you.

The tall, dark-eyed Bulgarian Seeker cautiously went towards the table that you were currently occupying while you were rolling the parchment that has your already finished History of Magic essay (Five feet long, to be submitted next week).

Oh.

No fangirls today, you noted.

"Здравей," he said in Bulgarian. (Zashto- Hello.)

"Защо, здравей и на теб." you said cautiously- and in basic Bulgarian, putting down the book you were reading, Le Mortes Magicke by Æthel Marrye Vermillion. (Zashto, zdraveĭ i na teb- Why, hello to you, too.)

"Мога ли да седна тук?" Viktor replied, smiling at you as he dropped his books- you frowned at that- gently in the table. (Moga li da sedna tuk?- Can I sit here?)

"Yeah, sure." you waved your wand to levitate a few thick tomes which was in a seat right across you. "There."

"Oh," he looked away, a hint of pink in his cheeks. "I'm Viktor. Viktor Krum, from Durmstrang."

You smiled.

(Nice accent, for a Seeker from the North. Quidditch does give a lot of benefits.)

"I'm Hermione Granger."

"Nice to meet you, Hermione." his voice tasted like Honeydukes' best chocolate as he said your name.

But what surprised you was when you shook his hand, he kissed your knuckles, his lips feather-light against your skin.

"Did anyone tell you that you're beautiful, Miss Granger?" he said, his voice echoing in your skin.

You blushed and looked at him shyly.

His eyes laughed at you in a gentle way.

Unknown to you two, a pair of angry grey eyes flashed menacingly in the library's candle lights, heavy, unveiled malice particularly directed to one Viktor Krum.

xxxx


End file.
